


no words can explain

by leighbot



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, H/L Fireworks Fic Exchange, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-13 22:48:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4540350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leighbot/pseuds/leighbot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>When the chance comes in mid-October for Harry to spend the Christmas holidays of his sixth year abroad, he signs himself up without a second thought and begs Niall to do so along with him.</i>
</p><p>Or, the Hogwarts/Beauxbatons AU that no one asked for but everyone secretly wanted. Featuring language barriers between a sassy french lad and a flustered Hufflepuff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	no words can explain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shiptoendallships](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shiptoendallships/gifts).



> That feeling when I wrote a winter holiday fic for a summer exchange. Oops? Shiptoendallships, I hope you enjoy!
> 
> This has side Liam/Sophia and side/implied Niall/Zayn but I didn't feel either was strong enough to tag. [Zoe](http://millionairelouis.tumblr.com/) and [Tori](http://gentleantics.tumblr.com/) are the only reasons this is legible. Go forth and praise them. Also! The lovely [legerebrise](http://legerebrise.tumblr.com/) on tumblr was kind enough to correct my French! Thank you so much!
> 
> This spent half of its life titled 'hp larry verse' and the other half 'harry styles and the winter holiday in france'. Both accurately reflect the entirety of this story. End title taken from Sam Smith.

 

When the chance comes in mid-October for Harry to spend the Christmas holidays of his sixth year abroad, he signs himself up without a second thought and begs Niall to do so along with him. They both write home to their mums, letters full of apologies that they won’t be on the train home in December because they can’t let this opportunity pass. Maura sends multiple owls with reminders of what to pack, while Anne’s letters mostly consist of pleas for them to be on their best behavior during their stay in France. They reassure both their own mums and each other’s that they will be perfect guests, not looking to lose the opportunity to take future trips abroad under Hogwarts’ ‘Abolishing Borders’ program.

The initiative had started as a method of promoting cross-cultural interactions after the Battle of Hogwarts and the fall of Voldemort revealed the deep divide between the foreign wizarding communities, but had quickly turned into a mild rivalry between the wizarding schools. There were always three or four with open doors during school breaks, but Beauxbatons had never been available to them before. Harry’s seen enough pictures of the French palace at Christmas to know he desperately wants to go.

He works his _arse_ off to maintain the required marks to qualify for the scholarship. Niall, of course, maintains _his_ marks with seemingly no effort at all. Should’ve been in Ravenclaw, if Harry’s honest, but Niall’s loyalty, charm and good-nature were too strong for him to be sorted anywhere but Hufflepuff. It all worked out for Harry, for now he’s got a best friend for life.

Plus, everyone looks better in yellow.

The day of their trip finally comes. Headmistress McGonagall has a lecture similar to the ones they’ve already heard from their mums for all of the sixth years traveling to the Continent for the holiday recess. “I expect each and every one of you to uphold the values we have instilled in you since your admission to this school. You are representing Hogwarts and- as such- any behavior that would not be tolerated within the walls of this castle is still forbidden.” She peers over her glasses at the group, lingering for a moment longer over Niall and Harry than she does over any other person.

Shifting on their feet, they spare each other a glance and smile wide once her attention has passed, knowing how well-founded the scrutiny is based on their history. McGonagall has told them multiple times over the last five and a half years how they’re possibly the worst behaved students the Hat had ever sorted into Hufflepuff. They wear the badge with pride.

She gives them another long look as they head out of the entrance hall, twin grins on their faces and a small smile of acknowledgement from her that confirms what they’ve always known: they are her favorite students, for sure.

The grounds are busy with activity, most students heading to the train to return home. There’s a ship near the dock waiting to take students to Durmstrang and a line of transfixed Yakatabune can be seen in the giant ship’s shadow, students carefully climbing aboard for their travel to Mahoutokoro- the wizarding school in Japan.

There is only one powder-blue carriage waiting for those heading to Beauxbatons, and Harry falls in step with Niall as they pick their way around their fellow students to reach their ride. Four large Abraxan horses stand hitched, their giant wings hovering aloft as the boys climb into the carriage. Inside, it’s quite roomy, enough space for a dozen people to sit comfortably, though there are only two present. Harry recognises them both and smiles, happy he’ll be spending the journey with familiar faces.

Sophia smiles back when she sees them settle into their seats. She’s Head Girl this year, and she is so far the only one they’ve known who hasn’t turned them in for causing trouble. She typically gives them a minute or so head start before she reports whatever the disturbance had been.

Next to her is her boyfriend, Liam, one of the prefects in Gryffindor. They all exchange pleasantries while they wait, surprised when no further students come aboard and the Abraxans begin to flap their wings in preparation for flight.

“I can’t believe no one else is coming,” Liam says, crossing his legs and slipping his hand into Sophia’s.

“Most people probably think France is boring- a lot go there on holiday,” Niall reasons, enjoying a plate from the snack tray that appears in the middle of the carriage.

“Still, I would have thought the winter weather would have discouraged people from going to Norway. Japan or France are the clear winners, no?”

Harry looks at Liam quizzically. “You know that it gets cold in Japan and that Beauxbatons is in a mountain range, yes, so we’ll be plenty cold on our own?”

Liam flushes a little but smiles easily, shaking his head. “I did not know that, actually. I thought we’d be going somewhere quite hot,” he says, leaning forward and putting some food on a plate.

“Should have picked Uagadou to visit, then,” Niall says. “Plenty hot in Africa, mate.”

“I thought about going there,” Harry cuts in before Liam can say anything. “But they weren’t in the program this year unfortunately.”

“Better for us,” Sophia says kindly, accepting the plate when Liam hands it to her. “We get a couple of dashing Hufflepuff lads to join us.”

Harry beams and scoops a bit of wizard mix into a bowl, picking out the sunflower seeds and handing them to Niall before he eats the banana chips, the only part he really likes.

“Aww, they’re so cute,” Liam says, pitching his voice high. Sophia giggles but tries to put her hand over his mouth all the same.

“Sorry about him, he’s a dork,” she says. “He just likes seeing people coupled up, he’s got a bit of a cupid-complex.”

Harry and Niall glance at each other, mouths open. They both burst out in laughter simultaneously, Niall coughing on a sunflower seed after a moment and just causing Harry to laugh louder. “We’re not together,” Harry says after a moment.

Niall’s eyes are red and damp from both the giggling he’s doing and the coughing fit he’s finally suppressed, wiping his face with the back of his hand as he tries to take a couple deep breaths. “Definitely not together,” he affirms.

“Sorry,” Liam apologises with a smile. “We just thought… well, no matter.”

Harry starts in on his raisins, still smiling when he meets Niall’s gaze. They know what people say about them, how they must be together since they’re gay and they’re friends, but it’s never once been like that and they’ve come to terms with the gossip that spreads through the castle halls. They may even encourage it sometimes if someone especially heinous is around; there’s nothing like some quick snuggles to scare off the homophobes.

~*~

The four of them move about the carriage freely during their flight, taking in the passing landscape. They crowd together when they pass over the Eiffel Tower, the view from above quite different from when Harry had visited with his family the summer before he started his first year. As if sensing their interest, the Abraxans smoothly arc around, taking them past the tower and Arc de Triomphe again.

At the last moment, Harry thinks he spots a muggle look up, but the carriage is perfectly camouflaged with the sky and the Abraxans’ white, feathered wings probably pass as wisps of clouds from the distance. Muggles never properly pay attention anyway, and the carriage is swiftly gone with just a couple pumps of the giant wings on the horses.

They’re soon passing over the fifteenth arrondissement, the Abraxans guiding them over the Palace of Versailles, where the silver and slate is reflecting and sparkling in the sunlight. Niall and Liam bond over their equal fascination with the symmetrical gardens, while Sophia and Harry contemplate the more important concept of what it’d be like to live there.

“Imagine cleaning it, though,” Harry reasons with a frown after they’ve both lamented about the fact that they’ll never wander naked through the hall of mirrors; at that, Liam’s attention is finally captured.

“Who’s naked? What mirrors?” he asks, coming over to Soph and putting his hands gently on her hips. Harry watches unabashed as he leans in and nuzzles at her ear, making her giggle when his beard tickles her neck.

“Stop staring,” Niall says with a pinch to his side. “You’re gonna creep people out with that.”

Harry rolls his eyes and bats Niall’s hand away, giggling as they lose sight of the palace and turn slightly more to the south. He manhandles Niall back into one of the oversized armchairs, fitting himself along his side and getting comfortable, ignoring when Niall mimes spitting out a mouthful of curls. He dozes off when they’re somewhere near Bourges, Sophia and Liam settled into their own chair in a similar pose.

~*~

They start to stir over Toulouse, only a short time later. The Abraxans’ wings are near-silent and the ride is smooth, but the magic in the air must alert them because they all start to stand and stretch at the same time. They take turns in the toilet, graciously allowing Sophia the first turn and biting their lips when she starts “freshening up” and takes longer than any of them expected. She exits the loo with a smile, clearly aware of how they’ve been holding their breath as well as their bladders.

Niall races in before Liam can, completely ignoring the line up they’d planned, and Sophia laughs, husky and warm. Harry tries to tidy up a bit, surprised so many things were moved since they slept the majority of the flight. There are a few jackets and pairs of shoes around the carriage, and Harry gathers them up mindlessly. He stacks the plates back on the serving tray, smiling when food and dishes all disappear, knowing Niall will find a reason to bemoan the lack of food he hasn’t touched in several hours.

When he looks out of the carriage windows, he drops the shoes he’d been holding, mouth agape. They had thought Versailles was remarkable, but Beauxbatons is nothing like he expected. He had known the school was cut into the mountains by magic, but he hadn’t known it was situated at the head of the Cirque de Gavarnie, the valley laid out in the middle of the French Pyrenees.

Though not as many stories high as Hogwarts, the school is still sprawling and magnificent. It holds none of the intimidation of his school’s castle and is almost the opposite, warm and welcoming. The walls appear gold and bronze with the sunset, the beams of light bouncing off of the snow-capped mountains and reflecting in the enchanted glass and crystal work layering over the possibly marble exterior structure.

The Gavarnie Falls are situated underneath the grand entrance, partially frozen in the early winter temperature, large blocks of ice floating over the cascades and breaking on the surface of the lake below. The school looks like a continuation of the waterfalls almost, like if Harry tilts his head just right he’ll be able to see the where the walls extend and become liquid.

Sophia joins him first, mouth open as they stare at the school on their approach.

“I wonder if there’s a Hall of Mirrors here,” he says when he notices her at his side, his tone dazed.

“Better tell Liam we won’t be walking around naked, if there is.”

He can’t even laugh at the joke, still awestruck at the sight of his temporary home for the next fortnight. Niall and Liam soon come up behind them as well, looking out with the same sense of wonder that Harry feels.

The Abraxans, knowing they’re close to their rumored supper of single-malt whisky, fly true and steady, landing gently near the front entrance. Outside and waiting for their arrival is Monsieur Steven Sinclair- the headmaster of the school- and a small group of students, girls in powder-blue dresses to match the carriage and boys in black trousers and silk shirts in the same shade as well.

Monsieur Sinclair steps up to the carriage, helping Sophia down when the doors open. Liam and Niall exit next, with Harry taking a moment to press his feet into his shoes and follow. They’ve all worn nice outfits for the trip, but Harry feels underdressed next to the simple elegance of the students in front of them. Though the girls have bare legs under their dresses, they’re wearing fur-lined cloaks around their shoulders that fall to their ankles, and the lads have thick jackets and cloaks on as well, all of the same brilliant blue.

There’s one in particular that catches Harry’s eye as the headmaster explains a bit about the school, Harry unable to listen when he sees brilliant blue eyes and sun-kissed skin, brown hair swept back from his face and curled a bit in a swoop. Harry stumbles a bit when the boy makes eye contact with him, the focus of his attention a force that causes him to fall into Niall’s back, jostling Sophia in a domino effect through Liam and interrupting the headmaster.

“Excuse me,” Harry mumbles when Monsieur Sinclair looks at him in concern.

“ _Ce n’est pas grave_. Not a problem, my boy. Let’s get you all inside and introduce you around.”

Monsieur Sinclair’s accent is very good, just a hint of French in it, and Harry feels instantly reassured by his jovial demeanor. He follows him inside, the Beauxbatons students waiting for them to pass before they turn and file into two lines behind them, in step like a militia.

The entrance hall is more remarkable than the exterior, somehow, gilded columns and fixtures lining the walls, marble floor stretched seamlessly from corner to corner. Their shoes all tap out a rhythm, with Sophia, Liam and Niall all falling in sync with the Beauxbatons students while Harry keeps stepping out of turn. He thinks he hears a giggle behind him and he wonders if it’s _that_ boy, the thought of making him laugh sending a spark up his spine. He doesn’t dare turn around, though, forcing himself to pay attention as Monsieur Sinclair points out the grand staircase that will lead them to their sleeping quarters.

“I’ll have two of our _préfets_ lead you gentlemen to your dorms. _Mademoiselle_ Sophia, may I introduce you to Gabrielle Cailloux? She will show you where you will be sleeping for the upcoming fortnight. I hope you do not mind, I made a place for you in one of our dormitories; I did not think you would want to be alone.”

Sophia looks a little taken aback before a smile crosses her face. “That is very kind, thank you. I hadn’t known about my being alone until I was the only girl in the carriage. _Merci beaucoup_.”

Monsieur Sinclair smiles back at her and motions for the students to step forward. Liam kisses Sophia on the cheek before she’s led away, falling into conversation with Gabrielle easily. Harry turns when he’s approached, the boy from earlier with the soft hair standing in front of him with another lad, the two of them easily the best looking boys Harry has ever seen.

“ _Salut_ ,” the other one says. “My name is Zayn.” His accent is thicker than the headmaster’s but warm and smooth, his mouth forming the English words easily. “This is Louis,” he says, nodding to the pretty lad. Louis smiles when his name is mentioned, eyes on Harry.

“ _Bonjour_ ,” Liam and Niall say almost in unison, Harry following suit after a second. He bites his lip and closes his eyes, willing himself to find his chill and not be any more embarrassing in front of Louis.

When he looks up again, Louis is still watching him with a soft smile on his face, as if he’s charmed. “I’m Harry,” he says without thinking.

“’arry,” Louis repeats and Harry feels for an unfortunate moment that he’s going to chub up right there in front of the others just from the way his name sounds coming from those lips. Louis blinks slowly, lashes fanned out against his cheeks for the longest moment of Harry’s life, and his eyes look even bluer when they open again.

“Right, so we sleep through ‘ere,” Zayn says after a moment, looking between Louis and Harry. “We’ll show you to your rooms.”

“What about our bags?” Liam says as they turn in the opposite direction from where Sophia had headed, the stairs smooth under their feet as they step up it.

“Those ‘ave already been enchanted to your room. You’ll find everything is in order,” Zayn answers.

Harry turns away from Louis for a moment to look over his shoulder, the other Beauxbatons students having relaxed in their formation a bit now that the headmaster is gone, staring up at the disappearing visitors with open interest. He nearly trips over the last step but finds his balance at the last moment.

Louis giggles and Harry’s heart _soars_.

“What year are you in?” Harry asks him in an undertone as Zayn and Niall start talking about some of the portraits they’re passing. “You don’t look much older than me.”

Louis’ brow furrows, staring at Harry’s lips as they pause for a moment, Niall having a conversation with a painted shepardess about, Harry doesn’t know, isn’t paying attention, the green of her fields or something. Louis opens his mouth, pink lips parting. “Zayn? _Que dit-il…_ ” he trails off, confused.

Zayn turns to them, frowning. “Louis doesn’t know a lot of English, refused to learn when ‘e came ‘ere, said everyone should learn French instead. ‘E basically knows ‘where is the loo’ and a couple naughty words.”

“Where is the loo,” Louis repeats, laughing. “ _C’est drôle_.”

Harry flushes when he laughs as well, no idea what Louis’ said. He turns to Zayn, who must take pity on him and his utter fascination because he steps closer. “Louis said it’s funny, he likes the word ‘loo’ cause it sounds like his name. What were you trying to say to him earlier?”

Flushing darker, Harry shifts his feet. “Just was asking what year he was,” he mumbles.

“Ah,” Zayn turns to Louis and whispers something in rapid-fire French. He faces Harry again before Louis can say anything. “We’re both year seven, but our classes go to year 8 here, unlike yours. We is seventeen, regardless. And you?”

“I’m year six,” Harry answers. “Sixteen. _Dix-seis_ , I think?”

“ _Seize_ , actually,” Zayn corrects kindly.

Niall’s finished with his conversation so they step forward again, Zayn slipping between Liam and Niall to lead the way, leaving Harry and Louis in the back again.

“I don’t know much French,” he says in an undertone.

Louis must understand him because he nods. “ _Je ne parle pas anglais. Je parle francais_.”

“ _Je parle_ ,” Harry repeats, forgetting the words. “Juh parle English.”

“ _Anglais_ ,” Louis corrects, less kindly than Zayn had done and more matter-of-fact. Harry repeats the words and Louis beams, reaching up to tug one of the curls that’s come loose from his slicked-back style from the morning.

“Oi, les  _amoureux_ ,” Zayn shouts. “ _Allons-y_ , we’re waiting.”

They hurry to join the other three, Harry not having realised how far back they’d fallen as they spoke. If ‘speaking’ could be loosely translated to the weird back-and-forth they’d just had. They stop in front of a wall of lanterns, Zayn showing them how the third from the left is a lever. He pulls it and speaks the password ‘ _mot de passe_ ’ which Harry is fairly confident actually means ‘password’. Immediately, the wall behind the lantern he pulls slides to the right, the entrance to a dark tunnel revealed. They duck through one-by-one, Louis bringing up the rear, and Harry’s jaw drops when he stands up straight, amazed at the room before him.

There are three large beds, more like the ones found in actual bedrooms than the four-poster beds found in the Hogwarts chambers. Each bed is tall, the tops of the mattresses higher than Harry’s hips. He imagines running and jumping onto them, not surprised at all when Niall does just that- landing with a soft bounce and immediately groaning.

“Oh, this is absolutely amazing,” he says, turning onto his belly and wiggling towards the pillows. Zayn and Liam are laughing at him, but Harry’s distracted by the soft touch of Louis’ fingers to his side.

“You like?” he asks, nodding towards the room. “Is… good?”

“Yeah, ‘course it is,” Harry nods. “It’s amazing.”

“Amazing?” Louis asks, drawing out the word.

Harry bites his lip and thinks for a second. “Beautiful? Incredible?” he tries.

“Oh, _oui, incroyable_.”

Smiling again, feeling his cheek dimple, he steps closer to the remaining bed, Liam having settled on one as well. He ran his fingers over the thick duvet, not understanding why it would be needed, as the castle was remarkably warm compared to the frigid temperatures outside. He pressed and poked at the pillows for another moment, imagining how soft they’ll feel when he settles in for the night. Louis is pestering Zayn, speaking quickly in a loud tone and laughing loudly when Zayn smiles at him. Harry wants to know what he’s saying so badly, but he tries to mind his own business.

Seeing his suitcase on a bench at the foot of the bed, he lifts it onto the mattress and opens it, putting away his things before he gets too tired to do so later. Zayn’s speaking but he doesn’t register it, needing Niall to say his name several times before he focuses.

“What’s that?” he asks, having just put the last of his pants into the chest of drawers.

“We’re going to dinner,” Niall repeats. “Come on.”

Nodding and suddenly feeling ravenous, Harry follows them from the room, ducking through the tunnel once again. He falls into step with Louis, the five of them mostly quiet as they make their way back through the school and down to the entrance. Harry thinks he can remember his way back to the dorms, but then Zayn turns to them.

“If it’s alright with you,” he says, hesitating, “we thought Louis and I could stay in your room with you. We are on ‘oliday, you see, and it would be, _comment on dit soirée pyjama?”_ he says, turning to Louis.

Louis rolls his eyes and shrugs, smiling fondly when Harry catches his eye.

“It would be,” Zayn presses on, rolling his own eyes at his friend, “like a… party? A sleeping party?”

“A sleepover?” Niall suggests, smiling when Zayn nods excitedly.

“That’s it, _oui_ , a sleep-over,” Zayn repeats, sounding out the word. “If you wouldn’t mind, we would enjoy ‘aving a sleep-over with you.” Niall’s flushed pink, eyes downcast as he nods.

“We’d like that,” he says, still staring at the toes of his trainers.

Harry would smirk but he’s pretty besotted on his own, he thinks, and even Liam doesn’t have the right to tease, as his entire face alights when Sophia meets them just before the entrance to the dining hall. They walk in together, the six of them now as Sophia had met them alone, and Harry thinks briefly to himself that one day he may be less impressed with the magnificence of the _chateau_ but today is clearly not that day. He finds himself speechless once again at the sight of the huge ice sculptures towering over them, glittering as if they’ve been sprinkled with fairy dust. He walks underneath a life-size Abraxan statue, staring at the underside of the wings in fascination.

Hovering in the air are words sculpted into blocks of ice no larger than his forearm, most of them foreign to him but he spots ‘Happy Christmas’ on one and ‘Welcome to Beauxbatons’ on another. The words float just above the top of his head, dangling long enough for him to read them before moving to another person and repeating the process. He laughs, delighted, and almost even claps his hands.

“This is magnificent,” he says honestly, turning to look over his shoulder at the rest of his group, who all have similarly shocked looks on their faces. Louis is staring at him, his constant smile painted onto his lips.

“ _Magnifique_ ,” he says, Harry repeating it dutifully.

They sit together with a group of Zayn and Louis’ friends, conversing in broken English and even worse French while they tuck in to their meals. Louis doesn’t speak much but Harry doesn’t mind with the way he’s pressed into Harry’s side, constantly sneaking bites off of Harry’s plate even though his own holds the same things.

They’re touching from their thighs to their shoulders, Harry eating awkwardly with his left hand so he won’t jostle Louis too much. At one point, when he’s too stuffed to move but is eyeing a pastry for dessert a little too closely, Louis leans over his chest to grab the exact pastry he’d been looking at.

“ _On partage_?” he asks, holding it up between them. “We each eat,” he says when Harry shakes his head to show he doesn’t understand.

“We can share, _oui_.”

Louis splits the cake somewhat evenly, keeping the larger half for himself with a giggle that tells Harry he’s aware exactly of what he’s doing. He doesn’t mind, doesn’t care for that much sugar typically anyway, and he enjoys watching Louis eat it, seemingly savouring every bite.

When they’re done, basins appear before them.

“Is this soup?” Niall asks, staring into it. Harry laughs, harder so when the students around them dip their fingers into the still water, using their serviettes to wipe their hands clean.

“I wish you would have tasted it,” Liam says, Sophia hiding her laughter unsuccessfully behind her hand.

“Piss off,” Niall says good-naturedly, getting pink again when Zayn smiles at him and demonstrates exaggeratedly how to wash his hands.

They make their way back to their dormitory, Louis staying behind a moment to talk with one of his friends. The lad looks Harry up and down while they speak, as if he’s assessing him, and he smiles at last, kissing Louis on both cheeks before they part. Trying to not look as though he’d been staring, though he, of course, had been doing exactly that, he turns to face Liam’s back again, quickly going up the stairs.

Louis is like a bullet, however, darting up to him before he’d reached the top step. He slings his hand around Harry’s waist as if it was natural, beaming when Harry lets his own arm settle on Louis’ shoulders.

“Where are you going to sleep?” Sophia asks Zayn and Louis, coming up with the lads for a bit before she’d have to head back to her own room.

“You’ll see,” Zayn says with a smile.

Niall tugs the correct lantern once they reached the dormitory entrance, but his Irish accent is so thick he can’t correctly pronounce the password. Liam does in his place, crooked smile when the wall slides open to reveal the tunnel.

“Ugh, this was the worst idea ever,” Niall faux-groans, beaming when Zayn laughs at his antics. He ducks through the tunnel and lands on his previously claimed bed after a running start, smiling when the others file in after him.

There are two more beds added in, though the room doesn’t appear to be any fuller or any less spacious than it had when there were three. “It’s enchanted,” Harry says dumbly.

“Of course it is,” Niall teases him. “You’re in a school of _magic_.”

“Yeah yeah,” Harry says with a grin of his own. He doesn’t enjoy the thought of letting Louis pull away, so he instead follows the smaller lad when he tugs at his hip once, leading him to what must be his bed. It’s unmade and stacked with more pillows than the others combined, Quidditch players zooming across the duvet’s ripples. “Is this yours?” he asks when they reach it. “From your room here?”

Louis looks at him, watching his lips as he speaks, but he doesn’t understand and he doesn’t apparently care either, smiling and tugging him down onto the mattress. They scoot back together, letting go long enough for them to settle amongst the mountain of pillows. Louis leans his head on Harry’s shoulder, patting the space next to him so Zayn will settle in on his other side. Niall stays on his own bed, the one right next to Louis’, and Liam and Sophia climb onto the foot of his.

If Harry had been asked, he would have said that having a conversation with someone without knowing their language would be too difficult, but he finds that Louis is charming in any language, the two of them giggling to each other over a conversation of hand gestures and possibly made-up French words, though Louis doesn’t correct him ever. Zayn translates for them sometimes, but he’s too busy making mooneyes at Niall for the most of the evening to be of much help.

Harry drags himself to his own bed somewhat reluctantly, having to let go of the hand he’s been holding for most of the night. It had started innocently, Louis grabbing his hand and tracing his lifeline, chattering about something to do with the zodiac, Harry thinks, but then their fingers had linked and they’d turned further to each other in the bed, close enough that their noses were almost touching as Louis started singing in a whisper.

It leaves Harry groggy and disoriented when he has to leave, slipping under his own duvet and sighing as the enchanted covers settle around him. He chances a glance over at Louis, the foot of his bed facing Harry’s and one over so all he can see is a barely-there lump in the soft mattress, his brown hair a stark contrast to the white pillowcases.

He is asleep within minutes.

~*~

The time in France passes much too quickly for Harry’s liking. While part of his days are sometimes spent with the student body at large, Monsieur Sinclair keeping the Hogwarts students involved in the holiday festivities for those that had remained behind, the majority of his every day is spent with Louis.

At first, Zayn is with them constantly, Niall following along like a puppy dog. As the days pass, however, and Harry grows more confident in his hand signaling ability, he and Louis spend less and less time with the others.

Their first solo venture together is breakfast on the third day. Harry has Louis name each item, particularly enjoying the word for grapefruit. Louis giggles as Harry repeats ‘ _pamplemousse’_ again and again, though he pulls a face when Harry declines a piece Louis’ carved for him.

“ _Non_?” he asks.

Harry sticks his tongue out, delighting in pulling another laugh from the boy. Louis points to the plate of eggs in front of them, sticking out his own tongue.

“You don’t like eggs?” Harry asks, scandalized. “But it’s protein!”

“ _Nous ne mangeons pas d'oeufs pour le petit déjeuner._ ”

Harry stares at him for a second after he’s done speaking. “I got… none of that,” he admits with a sheepish smile and a shake of his head. “I’m assuming one of those words was ‘eggs’.”

Louis smiles back at him, rolling his eyes. He points to the plate again. “ _Oeufs_.”

“Okay, got that.”

Louis spreads his hands, indicating the table at large. “ _Petit déjeuner_.”

That one still escapes him. Harry looks around for a moment, smiling when he sees Liam and Sophia seated further down the table and enjoying their host school’s mostly successful attempt at a full English. He turns back to Louis, excited. “Breakfast, is that you saying breakfast?”

Louis tilts his head and nods, though Harry doesn’t think he knows the actual words he said, but he thinks they’re understanding each other’s intent. He watches Louis stick his tongue out again and he takes another guess. “You don’t like eggs for breakfast?”

Louis beams and nods again, leaning in and hugging Harry with one arm around his waist. Harry hugs him back, enjoying the way Louis seems to always be so warm.

~*~

A couple days later, he learns how untrue ‘Louis always being warm’ is.

Louis takes Harry by the hand after another solo breakfast, which passed with Louis laughing a bit too much at Harry’s horrible French pronunciation of breakfast items. He’s trying though, even if he trips over the words sometimes when he tries to mimic the way Louis’ pronouncing the words. His voice is nothing like Louis’ high, soft tones and he finds himself tongue-heavy over the words. Louis never seems to mind, correcting or nodding his approval and always, always smiling.

They walk out to the gardens, fingers entwined. It’s a bit chilly outside, but Harry’s got a jacket on that he relishes for the time being; Louis’ wearing a jumper that’s only going to work for so long. Harry thinks the walk will end with him giving up his coat, but he doesn’t mind. It’s exactly the type of romantic cliché that Harry always enjoys reading in books.

Sure enough, they’ve been outside only fifteen minutes when Louis starts shivering.

“Cold?” Harry asks. Louis looks to him, blue eyes bright under the overcast sky. He remembers Louis teaching him the word for cold the day before. “ _As-tu froid?_ ”

And, oh boy, he is probably never going to get over the way Louis’ smile crinkles his eyes when he’s really happy, especially since he knows that Louis’ pleased with _him_ and his terrible French. Louis nods and Harry grins back at him, shrugging off his jacket and helping him get his arms through.

It’s too long, sleeves reaching to the tips of his fingers. His cream-coloured jumper looks nice under the black peacoat, and Louis fumbles to button the front. Harry takes over for him, buttoning the coat and adjusting the collar.

Louis looks up at him through his thick eyelashes, lips parted, and Harry leans in. Louis follows suit, a hint of his exhale fanning over Harry’s lips and sending shivers down Harry’s spine. There’s just a miniscule gap between them and he’s just about to close it, so close to kissing this beautiful boy for the first time, but a loud sound distracts them both. They turn their chins and watch as Niall and Zayn come racing out of a nearby patch of shrubs, hastily straightening their shirts.

One of the teachers follows after them, shouting in rapid-fire French. He’s clearly just caught them getting off, and they both smirk as they rush past Harry and Louis, giggling as they disappear around the corner.

The teacher looks to them, a grumpy look on his face.

“ _Qu'est ce que vous regardes? Circules_.”

He may not know the _exact_ words the teacher is saying, but Harry doesn’t need Louis grabbing his hand and tugging to convince him to scatter; the teacher clearly doesn’t have patience for any further misbehaving.

They hurry away, but instead of turning back to the palace like Harry expects, Louis walks until they’re out of the teacher’s sight and turns sharply to the left, away from the school. They criss-cross through the hedges in the gardens, a maze leading somewhere that Louis is determined to reach. Harry follows easily, their boots crunching on the cold grass, breath making smoke in the air. He’s getting cold in just his jumper, but he doesn’t mind when Louis glances over his shoulder at Harry, looking cute and small in Harry’s too-large coat.

When they finally come to a stop, Harry realises why Louis brought him outside. There are about a dozen other students wandering about, all circling a dazzling fountain that’s nearly filling the entire clearing.

“This is amazing,” Harry says, breathless as he watches water fall from multi-coloured spouts. The enchantment on the fountain makes the water appear to sparkle like cut diamonds, and they slowly step closer.

Louis reaches out a hand, trailing the tips of his fingers along the surface of the water. Harry copies him, surprised when he feels a tingle against his skin, the magic strong.

“This has healing powers,” he says needlessly. “ _La magie de guérison,”_ he says when Louis quirks his brow at him. Louis nods and then, lighting-fast, flicks his hand so a few splashes hit Harry in the face.

“ _Oups_ ,” he giggles as Harry wipes the droplets away, his skin tight where they’ve landed.

“You’re in trouble,” Harry warns, splashing him in return.

Louis laughs louder at that, not bothering to wipe anything away. A drop clings to his lashes, and Harry brings up his own hand to brush it off.

“Hi,” Louis says when he’s finished.

“Hi,” Harry replies, his fingers tucking a few stray strands of brown hair behind Louis’ ear.

They take a seat on the edge of the fountain, the air warm around it enough that Louis soon shrugs out of Harry’s coat. He doesn’t return it, however, just folds it over his arm and keeps it in his lap for the time being.

They talk a bit in their broken sentences, often having to mime out their meaning when one or the other gets confused. It’s nice, talking to Louis and being around him. Harry doesn’t mind not having Zayn near as a translator, takes advantage of the time alone he has with this beautiful boy.

~*~

A week into their stay, Louis takes him under the school’s entrance hall to the mouth of the waterfall cascading below it. It can only be reached by a couple of narrow tunnels that Harry is definitely sure they aren’t allowed in, but adventure has never deterred him before and he isn’t about to let it start now.

It is worth any amount of trouble they can get in once he’s standing straight again. The sound from the waterfall is deafening, they wouldn’t be able to talk even if they wanted to, and the air is bitingly cold, the mist slaps them in the face and it would be a thousand different ways of unpleasant if it wasn’t for Louis. His face is alight the way Liam’s is when Sophia comes into a room, the way a child looks when it sees a firework or a puppy looks when you wave a bone for him, and the tip of his nose is the brightest red Harry’s ever seen. His eyes are wide and his smile is warm, and Harry can’t even _think_ before he closes the distance between them and tilts Louis’ face up for a kiss.

It’s like the magic within them sparks when their lips meet, every cliché Harry has ever heard flowing through his mind. He kisses and kisses Louis until his hands are numb from the winter air, the only warm parts of his body the spots where Louis is touching him; hot along his hips, his mouth and his chest.

Louis sighs when they pull apart, eyes still closed and mouth turning down into a pout when Harry doesn’t lean back in. Harry laughs, wants to duck his head into Louis’ chest and let out the mix of giggles and nerves that are making his heart race, but he wants to get them inside where it’s warm even more.

He presses a last kiss to the tip of Louis’ nose, the skin there cold like ice, before he leads Louis back through the narrow tunnels and into the palace, holding his hand as they make their way upstairs to the dormitories. He’s just placed his foot on the top step when Louis lets go of his hand.

“’arry,” he says.

Harry turns and looks at him. “Yeah?” he asks, unable to keep a fond smile from his lips.

Louis takes a deep breath before speaking again, his accent thick and words so slow Harry can barely understand him. “When go you back ‘ome,” he starts, “may I to write you there?”

Harry beams, tugging Louis up the last step so he can hold him in his arms again- a feeling he doesn’t think he’ll get over anytime soon. “Of course you can,” he says around his smile. “ _Mais oui, s’il te plait_. Have you been practicing with Zayn?”

Louis is flushed both from the warmth in the hall and from Harry’s enthusiasm. “Practice,” he confirms with a nod. “ _Mais_ , _juste un peu._ A little.”

Harry kisses him again, and suddenly the last week he has with Louis doesn’t seem like the end, not with the knowledge that he’s affecting Louis just as much as Louis is affecting him. He now has his letters to look forward to, and can already see him bringing Louis in for a week during the summer so the French lad can see his family’s home.

Louis giggles against his lips, holding out a hand and starting up the steps again. “Come,” he commands. “We to go bed.”

It’s like he’s Yoda, Harry thinks to himself for a moment. A Yoda with a great arse. Louis must sense the attention his bum is receiving, because he shimmies his hips a bit. Harry laughs and follows Louis closer, always keeping a point of contact between them.

Maybe he’ll invite Louis to stay for more than just a week. And, if Louis and his parents agree, Harry can come stay with him in France, as well, at least for a bit.

The future is bright.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! My brief but powerful inspiration tag for this story is [here](http://sa-voix.tumblr.com/tagged/hplarry-verse). Come say hi!


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